I'm Not Fine
by EmeraldEuphoria
Summary: "Santana, Sam asked me out," Santana felt her heart clench almost painfully, "And I said yes," Santana's heart stopped beating.


A/N: I'm typing this up on my phone. I'm sick and my throat is being an asshole. Also, TOM isn't being very kind to me. Anyway, those are the reasons why I needed someone to cry for me...

Enjoy!

* * *

"Hello?" Santana said after she'd pressed 'reply' without seeing who it was.

A sigh, "Santana..."

She stopped her hurried movements inside her dorm room, "Britt? What's up?" she asked cautiously.

"Well, um..." Brittany cleared her throat," I thought you should hear this from me and well, I didn't know when you'd be back and I needed to tell you..."

Santana felt a little dizzy; she had a really bad feeling about this phone call, and she got the irrational thought of just hanging up, but she couldn't do that, not to Brittany, "What is it Britt?"

Another sigh, "Sam asked me out," Santana felt her heart clench almost painfully, "And I said yes," Santana's heart stopped beating.

She sat (read: fell) down on her bed and tried to get her breathing under control, "Oh, yeah?" she hated how meek and small and vulnerable her voice sounded.

Brittany let out a deep breath, "Yeah, San. I just wanted you to know because it wouldn't be fair if someone else brought up me and Sam dating and you didn't know,"

Santana felt numb, but she still felt unbelievable amount of pain, she could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Santana? Are you okay?"

_No, I'm not okay. I don't want you to date Sam. I want to be with you. I didn't want to break up with you; I only did it because I wanted you to be happy and you didn't try to stop me and you didn't try to talk me out of it. And I'm always scared that you're gonna find out how unremarkable I am and how you don't really love me. And I don't wanna ever lose you. And please be with me. Please don't stay with Sam. Please don't hurt me. Please help me. I don't know how to do this; how to be unafraid, how to stop being so damn insecure, and no one can help me but you. Please don't break my heart. Please... _

That's what she wanted to say, but she couldn't, "I'm fine. I'm h-happy for you and Trouty," she swallowed against the lump in her mouth.

"Are you sure, San?"

Santana shook her head, "Yup! Totally," she sounded so monotonous, and she knew that Brittany knew she wasn't okay, so it really hurt when Brittany said that she was relieved and that she had to go.

Santana didn't go to any of her classes that day.

* * *

She was lying on her bed in her dorm room, her roommate's out at her boyfriend's apartment for the weekend, and she's stuck listening to Brittany ramble on about how "sweet and cute Sam is!"

Fuck this shit.

"... And then he sang this really cool song, San! But, like, he sang it for me!" Brittany exclaimed, laughing in joy. And Santana really tried to be happy for her best friend, but she didn't think she was being successful if the wet tracks on her cheeks are anything to go by.

"That's awesome, Brittany,"

Brittany hummed, "I know," she cleared her throat, "San? Are you okay? You sound weird..."

_Maybe it's because I've been crying myself to sleep every night for the past two weeks since you've told me you've moved on. Or maybe it's because I've been crying for the past twenty minutes you've been talking._ "I'm fine, Britt," she responded, feeling way too tired to raise her hand and wipe her tears, she couldn't take any more of this, "Brittany, can we maybe talk some other time? I'm really tired,"

Brittany sounded strange when she spoke, "But it's Friday. Aren't you going out or something?"

_No, I'm not. Because I'm a little too heartbroken that I've screwed up once again, and now I'm gonna try to sleep through the weekend. But don't feel bad, Britt, because you're going out with your "boyfriend"_. "Maybe. I'm just really tired. I think I'm just gonna go to sleep," she sighed, feeling beyond drained.

"San?" Brittany sounded worried, "Are you sure you're okay?"

_No, I know I'm not okay, Britt. But I can't mess up your life, so I won't tell you that. But I really, really wish you'd take the time to actually listen to me, like you used to. You used to know everything I was thinking just by how I sounded._ "I'm sure, Britt, just really tired," _so freakin' tired, and miserable, and sad, and lonely, and missing you, and scared, and really exhausted._

A sigh, "If you're sure...?"

"I am. Go out, have f-fun. Enjoy your weekend, Britt, you deserve to,"

Brittany whispered, "You do too, you know; you deserve all the fun in the world, San,"

Santana bit her lip to stop her sobs from making their presence known. She took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing for a fact that the other girl on the line could hear it, "Yeah, I know. Goodnight, Britt,"

"'Night, San,"

Santana waited for an "I love you" that never came.

* * *

It's been two months since that dreadful phone call from Brittany announcing the beginning of her and Sam's relationship, and Santana is progressively getting more pathetic.

Her life was as follows: get up, go the bathroom, get dressed, take the books she'll need, leave the dorm, grab a coffee, finish classes in a semi-comatose state, go to cheerleading practice if there was one, go back to the dorm, do homework, then sleep.

Pathetic. Lonely. Sad. That was her life. And she hated it with a passion.

Of course, it only got really worse on Thursdays, because as much as Brittany liked to call at different times, Thursday was 'their' day so to speak. Which really just meant Brittany going on about how awesome Trouty was while Santana tried to zone out so as not to cry more than necessary.

Lucky for her, today is not Thursday. Unlucky for her, that didn't mean Brittany wouldn't call.

And guess what? While Santana was sitting in a hidden alcove at the far side of the court yard, Brittany called.

Santana took a deep breath, then let it all out, staring at the smiling picture of the perfect blonde girl on her phone (she's talking about the caller ID one, not her background, which is totally still a picture of Brittany), "Hi, Britt,"

"Santana," Brittany said, voice devoid of any emotion.

Santana sat up straight, "Brittany? What's wrong? Are you okay?" the questions flew out of her.

There was a pause before Brittany spoke up, "Sam told me he loved me,"

So, Santana really thought that everything inside of her that made it acceptable to call her human went away. She's pretty positive her heart had packed up and left. She's also pretty sure her lungs are forgetting how to work, because try as she may, she can't remember how to breathe. She found it hard to blame her body; because shit, Brittany really has moved on and now Santana was officially alone. Completely alone and her head snapped up, looking around, which didn't help because she was in the little alcove and no one could see her, but she was still scared, terrified. She was truly alone.

A sob was wrenched out of her.

"San?"

Santana felt the strange urge to scream at Brittany to stop calling her 'San', "Yeah. I'm h-here," not really though, she was in the dark place where every bad, scary, hurtful, insecurity and thought lived and she was drowning in them. They were surrounding her.

"Santana, I'm sorry-"

Santana stopped listening. She could imagine what Brittany was saying; stuff like "he was there when you weren't" and "I didn't plan on it, it just happened", the crap people say when they're trying to make the person they're breaking up with feel better. It never works though.

"Brittany," she said, stopping the girl in the middle of whatever she was saying, "Can I hang up, please?"

A beat, "What?"

Santana licked her lips and swallowed against her dry mouth, "I wanna hang up. I wanna go. I wanna..."_ stop hearing about you living without me. I wanna stop hearing about you moving on. I wanna stop hurting. I wanna be with you. I wanna finally stop being so damn scared. I wanna see you. I wanna... I wanna... I wanna..._

"Santana," Brittany sounded on the verge of crying, but Santana didn't hear anything but the thoughts eating her up.

"Please, Britt," Santana shook her head at how broken she sounded, "Please stop..."

Brittany sniffled, "I'm so sorry, San..." she then hung up.

Santana got up, grabbed her things and left for her dorm where she lay on her bed and slept, praying that the sleep would wash away the bad memories. She prayed she'd wake up, in her old Cheerios uniform, cuddled up with Brittany on her bed, hearing those silly, lovely, adorable stories about Lord Tubbington and Charity. But she knew that wouldn't happen.

* * *

Someone was knocking on the door. Santana was tired. She didn't want to wake up. Where was her roommate anyway? Why was anyone knocking?

She turned on her side, back facing the door, and tried to go back to sleep to no avail. The continuous knocking finally got to her.

She wrenched the door open, "Wh-" the words died on her lips.

Brittany was standing there in all her Cheerio glory.

Santana blinked, "Why are you panting?" was the first thing she said. Idiot.

Brittany let out a tiny smile, "I ran up the stairs..."

Santana simply stared.

"Santana, can I come in?"

Santana didn't move for a few second, but then her brain kick started and she moved out of the way, letting the blonde in.

Brittany went over to Santana's side of the room easily, without thought, and sat down on the bed, "We need to talk,"

Santana felt like laughing; how many times did their conversations sound like break ups? She counted one, two... Five times, and she found it hilarious in her out-of-it state.

"San?" Brittany raised her eyebrows, "Wanna sit down?" she patted the spot next to her.

Santana shook her head, opting to sit on her roommate's bed instead, ignoring the flash of hurt in her favorite blue eyes.

She didn't move her eyes from her hands on her lap.

"San..." Brittany sounded pitying. And it was only then that Santana registered the fact that she'd only gone to bed a couple of hours before, and that her eyes were puffy and red, dark rings under them, she was skinnier, she was tense and was really tired. She also figured the blonde must've noticed all of that.

"San, what happened?"

Santana shrugged, "Nothing. Life. I just... Classes, you know,"

Brittany shook her head, "Please don't lie, you've been doing an awful lot of that lately. And I don't think it's been helping any,"

Santana slowly looked up, meeting sad blue eyes. Great, she'd messed up again, without even trying. "What do you mean?"

Brittany sighed, "You know what I mean, San," she threw her hands up, "Ever since I told you about Sam and I," she bit her lip when she saw the way Santana flinched, "Ever since I told you, you've been lying to me, giving me that 'I'm fine' crap every time I asked how you were doing," her eyes widened, "Every time I could hear you crying, you'd just lie and, San, that's not how we do things, okay? We don't lie to each other. Ever,"

Santana licked her lips, "What was I suppose to do, huh? Tell you that when you told me about Trouty and you, I died? That I just couldn't take the thought that you might not love me, that you'd moved on while I was here crying myself to sleep? That I didn't want to be alone. That I needed you. That I just wanted you to hold me and tell me everything was gonna be okay. That you would always be there. That I was never alone. Was I supposed to say all that?" she shrugged and wiped at cheeks, "Britt, you moved on! You're with Sam, and I _am_ alone. So, forgive me for not wanting to actually hear you say that you're choosing him over me, okay?"

Santana covered her face with her hands, trying to compose her self.

Brittany just sat there, tears steadily flowing and hands shaking, "Santana... I thought," she took a deep breath, "I thought you wanted this... I didn't..."

Santana took her hands off of her face, "Does it look like I wanted this? Brittany, I haven't had a good night's sleep in two months. I haven't been eating well. I haven't been able to breathe properly for two months. I haven't been able to get rid of the pain in my chest... I'm not okay, Brittany. And I don't blame you; it's my fault,"

Brittany frowned, "How is it your fault? You didn't do anything wrong!"

Santana sighed, "Yes, I did. I always do. I broke up with you out of this fear that you never loved me, and I expected, _wanted_ you to follow me, to stop me, and you didn't and-"

"Wait, you wanted me to come after you?"

Santana nodded, chuckling humourlessly.

"I thought you'd wanted space. I thought you needed time... I didn't know you wanted me to... But you said this was the long distance thing..." Brittany shook her head.

Santana shrugged, "Brittany, I'd take on a world of misery, I'd take on any distance if it meant I'd call you mine,"

Brittany stood up and walked over until she was in front of Santana, where she kneeled down, "Santana, I called you today because I wanted to tell you that Sam told me he loved me,"

"I know, Britt, you don't have to-"

Brittany stopped her by placing her hand on top of hers, "You see, sometimes you get scared and you close off and you distance yourself, so you didn't really hear anything past that when I called, which wasn't that ideal, so I knew I had to come down here," she brought Santana's hand to her lips to place a little kiss there, "Santana, I told Sam I didn't love him that way," she smiled, "I told him my heart and soul belong to a one Miss Santana Lopez and I was just waiting for her to come around," she chuckled, "Of course I didn't know you wanted me to be the one to 'come around'"

Santana bit her lip, "Y-you broke up with him?"

Brittany nodded, "I love you and only you, and no stupid boy could change that, okay?"

Santana hesitated.

"Santana, baby don't do this, you know I love you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't, alright? Please believe me, please," Brittany begged with her words and her eyes.

Santana swallowed, "I love you, too."

Brittany smiled through her tears, "I'm gonna kiss you now,"

Santana giggled, "I'd really like that actually,"

Maybe "I'm fine" really is the world's most told lie. But Santana figured if people found that special someone that made them feel like lying was pointless and that actually talking about it is better, then the world's most told lie wouldn't be told as often.

* * *

**A/N:** So? What did you guys think?

Also, I have a few ideas for a few fanfics, but I was wondering if anyone was willing to try co-writing them with me? Just PM me :)

All mistakes are mine (I have to disagree with this at the moment! Auto correct is a bitch! It keeps correcting EVERYTHING! Even when it doesn't need correcting!)

What did you like, didn't like and all that jazz!

Cheers!


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